


The Chase

by preetkiran1016



Series: Soldered Wires [1]
Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Canon Compliant, Everyone Is Gay, M/M, Mike is Tired, Mike is a mess, Pining, Private Eye Sammy, Sammy is buff, Sassy Mike, Soldered Wires, chase scene, slight gore, you cannot convince me otherwise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:22:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29524278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preetkiran1016/pseuds/preetkiran1016
Summary: How they MetOrMike is a Thirsty Bitch, and Sammy is Very, Very Confused.
Relationships: Michael Afton/Sammy Emily
Series: Soldered Wires [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2123097
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	The Chase

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OrangeGrove_Girl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrangeGrove_Girl/gifts).



This feels pointless.

After the last ten locations he’s been fired from, he’s starting to understand a little of what’s going on.

Even if none of it makes logical sense.

He could accept haunted animatronics. Hell, he could accept the concept of souls. He had a bunch of them stuffed into him at once, after all. 

The whole souls bouncing from restaurant to restaurant, Fazbear to Fazbear, Pizzeria to Pizzeria; popping into new animatronics no matter what location he went to…

It was honestly a little annoying. 

He just wanted one night without getting chased down by Bonnie.

Was that so much to ask for?

(Unfortunately so.)

He knew he looked like a mess, shambling up to the newest Freddy Fazbear he’d applied to. His uniform was definitely not the best quality available. It strained at seams, the shoulders barely fitting stretching over his already skinny frame. Hell the synthetic ass cloth already had a bunch of holes across the sleeves, singed brown and black like leftover cigarette burns.

This location clearly gave no shits.

If this was how it was before he even got his foot in the door, he wasn’t looking forward to what little security measures they had for him inside.

It’s been a while since he got fired from his first Freddy’s for tampering with the animatronics (and for the odor, but that was rude as hell). 

He’d been due for another.

He stomped up to the employee door, boots crunching through dead leaves and abandoned trash before fidgeting with his keys, the streetlights casting a dark shadow over the entrance.

He’s barely got the door open, the hinges creaking like they needed an oiling two decades ago when he’s assaulted.

Ok well not really.

What happens is that the most obvious ‘Not a Cop’ Cop pops up next to him just as he’s about to enter the next night of hell and bloodshed.

(Par for the course.)

“Hey, can I talk to you for a second?”

He sighs, head tilted back before grunting out a short, “Sorry bud, pizzeria’s closed til morning”

The _totally_ not-a-cop just nods, leaning against the grimy wall with his arms crossed, and that just serves to show off the bulge of his bicep, straining through mystery man’s white linen shirt. 

“That’s alright, I wanted to talk to you.”

Mike’s brain short circuits.

“What.”

“I mean, that fake accent isn’t that great. Do us American’s all sound that stereotypical?”

“Dude, I’ve no idea what you’re on-” Mike starts, pulling the door open just a more-

He needed to get out.

Now.

The man smirks, all sparkling white teeth and gums. 

Like a predator about to pounce.

“Not gonna introduce yourself?” 

“Stranger danger.” Mike auto-responds. “Don’t you cops teach kindergarteners about that all the time?”

The pretending-to-undercover-jackass just smirked. “That’s alright, though, maybe I should call you Fritz Smith.”

_Oh No._

_This is baaaaaaaaad._

“I can call you Fritz Smith right? If that’s even your name. Sounds really fake, my dude.”

The guy’s pulling out something that looks a lot like a fucking cop badge and Mr. Maybe-a-cop is turning out to be Definitely-a-cop and hooooo-ly he needs to get out of here!

“Yeah- yeah sure my dude-” He pauses, fake accent slipping as he slipped a hand into his suit pocket. 

“Sure?” The man repeats, the badge glinting off his pupils as Michael tries not to move too obviously.

At least until he grabs whatever was left of his breakfast bar and tosses it at the guys face, booking it in the opposite direction.

The cop’s flustered sputtering aside, he’s already moving, clearing the dumpster and dashing out the other side of the street. 

Hell to the no, he wasn’t dealing with this today!

* * *

He can’t stop running. 

He can’t.

Even if his lungs were close to exploding and his legs were about to give out under him.

Every time he looks back, dude’s right on his tail. Turning the corner or tripping around a late night pedestrian.

Still there, though.

_Persistent bugger._

Sliding under small bridges, jumping cars, zig-zagging through tiny neighborhoods.

The guy just wouldn’t let up!

His breath kept barreling out in giant clouds, and this dude barely seems to be breaking a sweat!

He huffed, slammed his hat further onto his head, wig slipping further back, and makes a split second decision.

He ducks into a tiny side alley, crammed between two smelly ass trash cans filled with fish bones.

ick.

He slaps a hand over his mouth, breath coming in short, rushed pants. 

His chest screamed, his feet screamed, his legs screamed.

God why did everything hurt.

He really needed to start working out.

So he waits.

And waits.

The cop runs past.

He waits more.

When the guy’s footsteps fade out, the dull hum of the streetlights the only sound left; he takes off in the opposite direction.

* * *

His shift was supposed to start at least two hours ago.

He’s not sure who’s stuck around to watch the animatronics instead.

He hopes it’s not the poor day shift girl.

She just wanted a job for college. 

(But it’s not like he asked to get stuffed into an animatronic suit every, single, day.)

Handsome mystery guy was persistent, he’ll give him that.

Michael’s led plenty of unlucky bastards on merry go goose chases. Most into the jaws of a very unhappy animatronic. 

This wasn’t nearly as bad. He’s not at peak physical performance after getting swallowed and spat out by Ennard for sure, especially in comparison to Mr. Chiseled Jaw, but he knew how to get around.

He knew how to hide.

He ducks under a nearby bridge, a muddy river moving like a slug not a few feet away.

He could feel his concealer coming undone already, dripping down his nose and getting in his eyes.

“Shit…. shit shit shit.” He groans, rummaging in his pockets for a tissue. “It takes forever to get this to set.”

“Shame about that.”

He doesn’t even get the time to yell.

There’s a (really nice, honestly) set of arms around his neck, and he can’t breathe-

“You are a dick-” Cop-Runs-a-Lot wheezes, and Michael would roll his eyes if he could-

He bites down instead.

The resulting string of slurs is sweet music to his ears.

It also gives him the opportunity to slip out of Robocop’s grasp, skittering along the wall and heading to open space-

Before he’s tackled flat to the ground.

The force sends his hat flying somewhere into the ether, and he hopes it’s not fucked off into the river.

That’s gonna be a pain to replace.

“Ow.”

“Shut it.”

“Fair.”

Mr. Fuck-You-I’m-The-Law pulls him up, the concrete floor scraping against his knees not so kindly and oh- ok he’s slamming him against the wall.

Well, ok.

The concrete wall isn’t much of an improvement. 

Least it’s dry. 

Cheek smushed up against a wall, wrist being zip-tied, and a hot dude behind him wasn’t his usual M.O. for a fun night, but apparently the universe was fucking with him extra hard today. 

“Alright, Fritz Smith, though I doubt, in all that is holy, that that’s your name; how about we do this the easy way this time round?”

“And here I thought we were on easy mode already chief, gonna pull the kittens out next?”

_God, why was he such a snarky bitch._

“God-fucking-”

Yep, there was the Pissed-Off-Bluecoat.

He doesn’t has the brain cells to stay upright when he’s flipped (rather aggressively, excuse you), and lifted; the copper’s arm at his throat and pinning him in place.

Well shit. 

His feet weren’t touching the floor.

Honestly, if he wasn’t in some shit, this would be a very different scenario right now.

At least the guy was cute.

From this angle, Michael could tell he was taller any day, even though he was a stick, and the dude could still hold him up like it was nothing. 

The lighting might be shit, in a dim ass tunnel under a service road; but Mr. Scowley Face was still pretty handsome, with the beard and pretty brown eyes and the-

Wait.

_Oh no._

“Uh.”

“Bout time you shut up.” The cop spits, rummaging in his pockets for a second before looking at Michael again. “Can you verify that you worked at these Freddy Fazbear locations in the past year?”

“Uh.”

The Cop- ( _And he was becoming a not Cop, and that was not good!!!!_ ) blinked.

“What?”

“Uhhhhh.”

“Do I have to repeat myself or-”

“No-no uh... Yeah I worked there.”

_And you look exactly like Uncle Henry._

_WHY DO YOU LOOK LIKE UNCLE HENRY?_

“Can you explain why-”

“Mind if I ask something?”

The Not-Henry scowls even more and _oh-gee_ he looks even more like Henry when he was in scolding mode like that.

Scolding all of them.

Elizabeth, Christopher, Charlie, Michael.

Sammy.

“What is it?” 

“You ever know a guy named Henry Emily?”

The change is instantaneous.

If only because Sammy drops him.

“What the hell!!” Sammy yelps, and Mike would answer, he would, but he hit the ground with lungs first, if that’s even possible, and the wheezing is taking a little time to reboot, thanks very much.

“Nice to see you too, Sammy.” He groaned, sitting up after a good minute, meeting panicked, wide eyes with a wide, uneasy smile. “Long time, no scare.”

A flicker of recognition.

Horror.

“Michael?” 

“The one and only. Help a twig off the floor? Kinda don’t got my hands.”

Sammy flushes, and that’s a little cute- ( _why is that cute!?)_ before walking over and pulling him up by the elbow-

And freezes.

Blinks.

“Uh... Sammy?”

“Mike...is your shirt torn?”

Sammy’s voice breaks, wavering, and Mike sighs.

He thought he had felt a draft. 

He chances a glance down, confirms that yep, his shirt was open, and, yep;

His stitches tore loose.

Goddamn, that was gonna be a pain to close up.

He knew all that running wasn’t a good idea.

Sammy looked like he was about to puke, staring into the gaping maw of his stomach.

Which, fair?

“Hey, so, Sammy, you got a first aid kit? Gonna need to close myself up.”

“You need to do wHAT?!”

* * *

Two hours, three puking sessions (for Sammy), one make-up application session, and too many stitches later, they were ready.

For what... Mike wasn’t sure.

Sammy cut off the zip-ties immediately, and even insisted on helping with the stitches, well, as much as he could without having a panic attack at the state of Mike’s chest.

And he had tried to ask, Sammy did, but he’d deflected each time.

(“You don’t wanna know.”, “Leave it alone mate”)

Now he was bundled into Sammy’s junker car and being driven…. somewhere.

“You know, I had a shift before you ambushed me.”

“I’ll pay the wages you lose tonight.” Sammy says, eyes on the road. “Besides, I doubt you want to be watching some boring animatronics all night.”

He chuckles. “Yeah... boring animatronics…”

Sammy gives him the weird side eye.

The silence stretches.

* * *

Sammy pulls up to a small, brightly lit cafe bookmarked by two darkened buildings. A beacon of light in the dead of night.

“A 24 Hour Diner? Really?”

“Where else?”

Mike glares at the cheery, neon signs, before sighing.

“Fine. You’re paying.”

* * *

The waitress’s barely taken their orders before Sammy’s all over him.

Well…. not in that way.

If only.

He wants answers.

“Are you sure?” He asks. 

“It’s not…. logical... any of it.”

Sammy nods, mouth firm and eyes hard as steel.

“Whatever happened to you…. whatever happened to everyone. I need to know.”

He tries, he really does, to explain everything.

From what he could remember as a kid, the signs, how Elizabeth just... disappeared, what he did to Christopher.

Charlie.

The Puppet.

William going missing after the business closed.

His finding the Sister location, from vague instructions left behind.

The scooping.

The pain, the rotting. 

The living past being emptied of what makes you ‘human’.

Eventually it peters out, leaving Sammy staring at him over his food.

“Wait…. wait you don’t…. you were scooped?!”

“Yeeeeeep.” He drawls, slurping on his milkshake.

“But…. then how can you eat?”

“Dunno, don’t care.”

Sammy stares past him, into what Mike can only assume is the void, his eyes draining of all hope.

Mike steals his fries in the meantime.

“Anyway, I’m still hunting down the old bastard, though I haven’t found any new leads. That’s about all I’ve got about now. I’m bouncing between Fazbear’s, gathering info, trying not to die while Charlie and the others try to kill me because I look like the old man, and I’m rotting from the inside out. Anything else?”

Sammy whines. “Why is your stomach a hole?”

“Elizabeth’s a cunt. Next question.”

Sammy chokes off a laugh at that, and something unfurls in Mike’s chest at that, a little like what hope used to feel like.

“Well...my search for William led me to you so far, I thought the name Fritz Smith was something he was using for tax evasion or some shit-”

Mike bursts out laughing. “You wHAT-”

Sammy flushes red, sputtering. “Hey!! I didn’t know about any of this supernatural shit!”

“No, you though a serial murderer was using my weird alias for _TAX FRAUD_.”

“Well he wasn’t using Dave Miller anymore-”

“So why would he use mine?!”

“Oh, go shove a dick up-”

“Wouldn’t you like that-”

Sammy dumps his second milkshake on his head.

Honestly, he deserved that.

Worth it.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> A very late Valentine's gift for my bestieeeeeeee.
> 
> Wanna come yell at us? Join us in our insanity of the true big brain ship?
> 
> Come say hi!
> 
> https://superspazcatart.tumblr.com/  
> https://preetkiran1016.tumblr.com/
> 
> A very big thank you to my bestiiiiiie for the amazing art. Look at those pining fools.
> 
> She is at https://superspazcatart.tumblr.com for more of that amazingness!!


End file.
